


Minimal

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, No Plot/Plotless, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Kurapika.' Leorio's voice is higher than he intends, laced over with the relief that always washes through him before he can manage to muster the anger he knows he should feel." Kurapika doesn't pick up Leorio's calls, but sometimes he calls Leorio first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minimal

Kurapika never picks up Leorio’s calls. Leorio has accepted this, mostly, recognizes that his attempts to contact the blond will be a failure before they begin and further recognizes that he can’t let himself stop trying. But for every dozen times Leorio’s calls ring through to voicemail, there’s once when  _his_  phone rings, late at night or early in the morning, and even if he’s asleep he always picks up.

He’ll take what he can get.

It’s not that late this time, just going on eleven at night, and Leorio is awake later than usual. He’s just starting to think about moving towards his bed from the desk when his phone buzzes on the woof surface beside him. He glances at it, planning to ignore the call and follow up in the morning -- then he sees the number, is reaching for it before the adrenaline has even hit his blood.

“Kurapika.” His voice is higher than he intends, laced over with the relief that always washes through him before he can manage to muster the anger he knows he  _should_  feel. “Are you okay?”

“Hi.” Kurapika sounds exhausted, Leorio can hear the shadows under his eyes in the sound of his voice. “I’m fine.”

It’s a lie, if a familiar one, and Leorio knows better than to push. Kurapika hung up on him once for that, didn’t call him back for a week until Leorio was frantic with panic. Leorio knows the blond is taking advantage of him, knows he should offer more backbone and more anger instead of the pathetically grateful relief that hits him at the sound of Kurapika’s voice, at the reassurance that Kurapika is still  _alive_ , at least. But Kurapika needs  _someone_ , if only sometimes and only on his own schedule, and Leorio loves him too much to not forgive him over and over and over again.

So “You sound tired,” he says cautiously, pushing back from his desk so he can move to the greater comfort of the bed.

There’s a sigh, heavy and weighted with all the things Kurapika won’t tell Leorio he’s doing. “I am.”

The admission speaks more to his exhaustion than anything else. It is rare, very very rare, for Kurapika to admit to any sort of humanity, even to Leorio. This has only happened once before, when Kurapika called and just cried into the other end of the phone for an hour. Leorio never did find out what caused that, but Kurapika didn’t hang up so he stayed on the line, murmured incoherent comfort until the sound of sobbing faded off into hiccuping aftershocks.

Leorio’s thinking about that, picking out the tightness under Kurapika’s voice in his head, when he says, “Sleep would help, if you can.”

“I just want to hear your voice.” Kurapika’s voice is muffled, like he’s pressing his face against a pillow or maybe has an arm thrown over his face. There is a pause, then “I miss you.”

Leorio’s throat is the one to close up, this time. He swallows until the tension subsides enough for speech, though when he manages a response it still sounds wet and shaky. “I miss you too.”

“I miss your voice,” Kurapika says. He sounds dreamy, like he’s drifting into unconsciousness and letting words spill into sincerity without the usual filter of awareness, and Leorio is barely breathing for how hard he’s listening. “I miss the way you laugh and I miss the way you taste.” He takes a breath, sighs it out slow and considering, like he’s letting some weight lift up off his shoulders. “I wish you were here.”

Leorio moves to lie flat on his bed, shifting his weight slowly as if he’s going to startle Kurapika into silence if he moves too fast. “I just want to know you’re safe.”

“I’m not,” Kurapika says as calmly as if he’s not acknowledging the perpetual danger of his current existence. “I wish I was. I wish I had you here, right now, I wish you were touching me.”

Leorio’s breath catches. When he shuts his eyes he can see Kurapika’s face in the darkness, can imagine the movement of the blond’s throat when he swallows hard enough that it’s audible over the phone. “Just talk to me, I want to hear your voice.”

“I worry about you,” Leorio says without opening his eyes. “I’m always afraid you’re going to get into trouble while I’m not there with you, that I wouldn’t even know what had happened for months.”

“I don’t remember what your hands feel like,” Kurapika says, and Leorio isn’t sure if he wants to groan or cry. His body is flushing hot, doing its best to encapsulate both reactions at once so he’s starting to go hard at the same time his eyes are burning with tears. “I think about it all the time but I’m starting to forget, Leorio, I can remember the way your mouth feels and I can remember the way you look at me but I can’t remember your touch anymore.”

“I’ll remind you,” Leorio says before he can think better of it. “As soon as we’re together again, I’ll touch every inch of you, I promise.”

“Please,” Kurapika says. He sounds breathy, like he’s already doing what Leorio is thinking about. “You’re always so warm, your hands are so much better than mine.”

Leorio whines wordlessly in the back of his throat. “Are you --”

“I’m thinking about you,” Kurapika cuts him off, and Leorio can  _hear_  the heat in his blood bleeding into his words. “I always do.”

Leorio shudders a breath, switches his phone to his other hand so he can reach down and push the button on his pants free of the fabric. “Always?”

“Yes.” Kurapika’s voice is dropping low and resonant with pleasure, vibrating in his throat until the sound of it carries a shiver of echoing want down Leorio’s spine. “Sometimes I listen to the messages you leave me just so I can hear your voice.”

“That’s not fair,” Leorio protests as he gets his pants open. “I only have you when you call me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika says, sounding more breathless than apologetic. When he gasps an inhale it turns into the leading edge of a moan; Leorio can hear the movement of the blond’s hand on himself in that sound. “I miss you too much, if I --” His words cut off into a shudder and Leorio whines, wraps his hand around his length and starts to stroke over himself in time with the stutter in Kurapika’s breathing.

“I won’t stay away if I talk to you too much,” Kurapika says fast, like he’s rushing the words to fit in a single breath. “I don’t want to drag you into this with me.”

“I  _want_  to be with you,” Leorio protests. He’s playing catch-up, he can hear how close Kurapika is getting on the other end of the line, but the sound of the blond’s breathing turning into gasps is urging him on faster than he expected. “I’d be with you right now if I could.”

Kurapika makes a whining sound, sharp and loud before it’s muffled against what is probably a pillow. His words are still dim when he speaks, but Leorio’s entirely body is focused on the sound from the phone and when Kurapika says “I love you” it’s perfectly clear.

All of Leorio’s body flushes hot and shivering in reaction, even before Kurapika’s breathing stalls into a wail that sounds more pained than pleased. He can hear the shiver in the blond’s breathing, the tremble of orgasm rippling through his throat, and Leorio’s whine is more in reaction to Kurapika’s pleasure than his own. It takes a moment for the blond to recover his breath, to recollect the pattern of his inhales, and by the time Kurapika manages, “Leorio?” the other is barely clinging to coherency.

“Kurapika,” he gasps, and he can hear the sharp inhale from the other end of the line at the tone of his voice. “Don’t hang up, please.”

“I won’t,” Kurapika says, still sounding shaky and warm, and Leorio groans and the darkness behind his eyelids lights up with the white flare of pleasure.

He’s just opening his eyes, blinking back into his own body, when Kurapika takes a breath that sounds like farewell even before he speaks.

“Wait,” Leorio says, quick, before Kurapika can get going. “Don’t hang up, don’t go.”

“I have to,” Kurapika says, and Leorio can hear the aching want in his voice, it stops any protest he might make before he can form it into words. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Leorio says, and when he blinks his eyes burn with tears. “I miss you so much.” Kurapika takes a breath, deliberate and bracing, and Leorio shuts his eyes and says, “I love you.”

There is a brief pause, a hesitation hanging in the time and the distance and the responsibilities between them. Then Kurapika offers a laugh that sounds like a sob, and says, “Goodnight, Leorio,” and the line goes dead.


End file.
